


It's Waiting There for You

by amethystkrystal



Series: Bless the Rains [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bucky Barnes Recovering, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Illustrated, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Pre-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Pre-Infinity War, Shuri is a bro, Wakanda
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-30
Updated: 2018-04-30
Packaged: 2019-04-30 01:13:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14485554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amethystkrystal/pseuds/amethystkrystal
Summary: "Shuri, me and Steve… we're not --""Could have fooled me." She shook her head, muttering under her breath in Wakandan as she connected a series of wires in his arm. "My brother offered him the nicest guest suite in the palace and you know where he decided to stay instead?" She pointed an accusing finger at him. "Inyourhut. That hasonebed."--Steve visits Wakanda and Bucky decides he's done being afraid of his feelings.{Note: This work can be read standalone or as a sequel to "Longing for Some Solitary Company".}Now featuring art!





	It's Waiting There for You

**Author's Note:**

> This work can be read standalone or as a sequel to "Longing for Some Solitary Company".

Bucky was sure if this were any other lab, he'd be deep in the throes of a panic attack.

As it stands, the Wakandan research facility was the furthest thing from the musty hellhole where Zola had strapped him to a table and injected him with a chemical cocktail of God-knows-what. It was nothing like the place where Soviet scientists had taken a bonesaw to his arm, and mind and body, turned him into a machine.

This facility was like something out of the pulp magazines he used to read; it felt like he'd walked straight into the pages of _Astounding Stories,_ the way everything glowed and hummed with futuristic energy. Bucky stared with wide eyes, looking around at the holographic projections that hovered everywhere, at the technicians bent, careful and passionate, over their work.

The most startling novelty, Bucky had come to realize, was the head scientist herself. Shuri was the complete antithesis to every Hydra scientist he'd known. Unabashedly enthusiastic and steadfast in her dedication, she ran her lab under the principle that no project was every truly "done" -- everything had the capacity to be improved. She didn't just want her work to be impressive, she wanted it to _help_. She modified the algorithm for Bucky's neurological treatments after he mentioned having headaches. She made sure his vibranium arm was as balanced as it was strong. Where Hydra scientists had seen a mindless animal to poke and prod and exploit, Shuri saw a man in need of healing.

Also, he was pretty certain the Hydra scientists never played Beyoncé when they tinkered with his arm.

" _Tell him, boy bye, middle fingers up._ " Shuri sang along as she slid back the panel on the inside of Bucky's left arm. " _I ain't thinkin' 'bout you._ "

"Still not sick of this album, huh?"

"Sick of _Lemonade_..." Shuri clicked her tongue, giving him a genuinely affronted look. "I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that, Bucky with the Good Hair."

Bucky laughed, rolling his eyes. Her ceaseless teasing reminded him of his sisters. It was a bittersweet feeling.

"So," Shuri smirked at him. "How are things with Steve?"

"Uh fine?"

Steve had been staying in Wakanda for the past week, finally able to take time away from his missions with Wilson and Romanoff to visit Bucky. "Fine" seemed an apt description for how things were between them lately. He'd been surprised by how readily he and Steve had slotted back into their old dynamic, how easy it was to smile and banter back and forth. Affectionate pats on the back and teasing nudges came easily. Friendly, sarcastic quips slipped from his mouth without thought. He could take one look at Steve, and more often than not, know exactly what he thinking. Even when he didn't consciously remember, knowing how to act around Steve was apparently weaved into the fabric of his being, as natural and instinctive as breathing.

Sill, they couldn't ignore the way their years apart had scarred them. Bucky still woke most nights shaking from nightmares. Steve's jaw clenched with tension whenever he mentioned one of the Avengers. They still fit together like puzzle pieces, but the picture they made now seemed covered in shadows.

"'Fine'?" Shuri looked at him, incredulous. "I spent the past year developing a fix for your messed up brain so you can be reunited with your big, muscular boyfriend and all you can say is 'fine'?"

"Shuri, me and Steve… we're not --"

"Could have fooled me." She shook her head, muttering under her breath in Wakandan as she connected a series of wires in his arm. "My brother offered him the nicest guest suite in the palace and you know where he decided to stay instead?" She pointed an accusing finger at him. "In _your_ hut. That has _one_ bed."

"Things aren't like that with us."  

Bucky never had cause to say those words out loud before, though he'd repeated them in his own head more times than he could count. He'd said them when he was fourteen and woke up with sticky sheets after dreaming about blond hair between his thighs and thin legs wrapped around his waist. When he was nineteen and their apartment was so freezing they went to sleep curled up close together and woke up a mess of tangled limbs. When he was twenty-three and reading a letter that ended with " _Yours, Steve_ " was enough to will him through another day of marching toward death. When he was one-hundred goddamn years old with a new arm, a new brain and still unshakably in love with Steve Rogers.

Shuri must have heard the bitterness in his voice because her expression softened. "Have you ever told him how you feel?"

Bucky let out a humorless laugh. "And when exactly was I supposed to do that? In the forties when people got arrested and beaten for that kind of thing? Or maybe last year while I was half out of my mind and we were international criminals?"

"Things are different now. It's a new century and you're both safe in Wakanda."

"Doesn't matter what century it is if Steve doesn't feel the same way."

"You can't know that for sure." Shuri gave him a scolding look. "I know you lived through nightmares I can't even imagine, but if there's any good that can come from it, it's that you and Steve found each other again. You could start a new life together -- don't throw it away because you're afraid of your feelings."

 

\--

 

_You could start a new life together._

Bucky couldn't stop thinking about it the whole rest of the day.

When he was younger, in those rare moments when he actually allowed himself to indulge in the fantasy where Steve loved him back, Bucky had thought about it. He imagined falling asleep together every night and waking up together every morning. He imagined dancing and kissing and fucking. He imagined building a home together, growing old together. And then, just like being startled awake from a dream, he would remember reality. Even before the war and the serum and _fucking Carter_ , Bucky knew there was no such thing as a happy ending for two men who loved each other in 1930s America.

So he told himself _It's not like that_ when he flipped through Steve's sketchbook one day and saw page after page of his own likeness, when they tucked in close to each other on cold winter nights, when they both had a little too much to drink and stumbled into each other, leaning in almost close enough to-

Bucky's whole body ached with longing as his long-buried desires unearthed themselves. Not once in the nearly two decades that he'd loved Steve had Bucky ever said his feelings aloud to another person, and now having told Shuri seemed to break every wall inside him. She hadn't recoiled, hadn't judged. Instead, she'd acknowledged his most secret, desperate wish, and it made a new and terrifying feeling well up inside him.

Hope. Shuri had given him _hope._

Condemnation would have been easier to deal with.

Bucky exhaled, trying to get a grip on himself. He lay on the sleeping pallet in his hut, staring up at the thatched ceiling. Steve was outside, trying to capture the legendary Wakandan sunset with a set of watercolors he'd purchased from the marketplace earlier that week.

_You could start a new life together._

If Shuri was right...

"God fucking dammit," he muttered to himself, slowly getting up. He stripped off his shirt, pants and underwear, and stark naked, stepped out of the hut.

Steve didn't notice Bucky's presence at first, too engrossed in his work as he stood at his easel. It _was_ a beautiful painting. He'd managed to perfectly capture the shades of gold and indigo that reflected in the lake just outside the hut, the inky silhouettes of the reeds and trees that grew around the shore. Bucky stepped up to Steve, only inches away, admiring.

"Looks good, Stevie."

Steve's eyes went wide when he finally turned around to look at Bucky standing completely nude beside him.  Cheeks flushing pink, he glanced down below Bucky's waist for half a second and then pointedly fixed his gaze upward.

"Uh, Buck. Any particular reason you're naked?"

"Going for a swim," he said with as much nonchalance as he could muster. He walked over to the edge of the water and then called over his shoulder, "I'm not in the way of your view, am I?"

"Oh, no, uh, it's --" Steve cleared his throat. His cheeks had gone completely red now. "You're fine."

Huh. Maybe Shuri was on to something.

Bucky waded out until the water reached his ribs. He treaded lazily, taking in the beautiful landscape that framed the lake and letting himself relax in the comforting warmth of the water. In the weeks since waking up, Bucky had come to love Wakanda. The sweltering days and humid nights lessened the haunt of cryofreeze. The village marketplace, always so loud and bustling and busy, took him back to Brooklyn. He loved the plants and the trees and the animals. He loved the people, proud and generous and open. He loved how everything was so _alive_ , steady and pulsing like a heartbeat.

Bucky let out a deep breath, looking up at the rosy sky. He was healed. He was safe. It was everything he could ask for and far beyond what he deserved. He wanted for nothing except-

He looked back at Steve who was still working on his painting with such intense concentration it made Bucky's heart clench.

Loving Steve had been a part of him for nearly his whole life. Conscious of it or not, the torch he carried for Steve Rogers forged his every choice, his every action, his whole being. But hardly ever did Bucky allow himself to truly _feel_ that love, to let his awe and adoration consume him. So now, under the darkening sky, Bucky stared at Steve and took in his furrowed expression and careful, deliberate brushstrokes and let himself _want_.

Eventually the sun dipped below the horizon and Steve set his paints down.

"Hey!" Bucky called out. "You gonna join me or what?"

A pause.

"You know what? Maybe I will."

In the dim twilight, Steve's form was just a shadow, but Bucky watched transfixed as Steve stripped off his clothes and waded into the water. He swam toward Bucky,  grinning at him the way he did so often lately, like he was the most god damned amazing thing he'd ever seen. The miracle of their reunion never seemed to be lost on Steve.

Bucky felt like his heart was about to burst from his chest as Steve came up to him, and he was suddenly painfully aware of the fact that they were both naked. It was nothing they hadn't seen before; from childhood sleepovers to army barracks, Bucky had seen Steve in all states of undress. But never this close, never this intimate. Steve was barely an arms length away and he stared at Bucky with a soft fondness that set his every nerve afire.

_You could start a new life together._

Their language had always been one of unspoken understanding. Institutions abandoned and blood spilled to defend the other made up the vocabulary for how they felt. Everything meaningful between them was said without words, told in actions and gestures and choices.

Bucky knew this particular confession would be no different. Before his own cowardice could stop him, he surged forward and pressed his lips to Steve's.

The dizzy sensation of Steve's soft, warm lips on his lasted barely a second before he felt Steve go rigid underneath him and Bucky immediately snapped himself away. His initial awe at his own bravery was quickly being replaced by horrified shame as he realized what he'd just done. He stumbled back, mortified and unable to even look at Steve. What had he done? The one steady, good thing in his disaster of a life and he'd managed to ruin it all. Suddenly overwhelmed with the need to escape as far from Steve as possible, he turned away, moving back toward the shore.

A gentle hand on his arm stopped him.

"Bucky."

Steve stared at him with wide eyes. He looked dazed, stunned, uncertain. Neither of them spoke; only the soft sounds of the water lapping the shore filled the silence. He'd prepared for a pitying rejection. He was ready for anger and disgust. But Steve's unreadable expression, this agonizing stillness…

"Oh Bucky," Steve whispered. He moved his hand from Bucky's arm and placed it on his cheek, gently coaxing Bucky closer. There was a pause and then--

Steve kissed him.

Bucky's body reacted before his brain could even begin to fathom what was happening. His lips pressed back against Steve's and his arms found their way around his neck, pulling them chest to chest with desperate fervor. The feeling of it all threatened to overwhelm him. Steve's gentle hands on his face. Their lips parting and exploring one another, warm and wet and gentle. Every single spot he felt Steve's skin on his as their naked bodies pressed together. He felt himself growing hard, and if the brush of flesh he felt nudging his hip was what he suspected, he wasn't the only one.

The dam he'd spent years building around his heart had fallen and there was nothing stopping the flood. He kissed Steve with a feverish ardor, desperate to make sure Steve understood just how much love he'd been holding inside him. He let his hands roam Steve's whole torso, needing every inch of him to feel his adoration. Where Bucky was all frenzied worship, Steve was tender ministrations. One hand cupped the back of Bucky's neck, his thumb stroking gently along Bucky's throat. His other palm he held against the small of Bucky's back, a steadying, intimate touch that had Bucky tethered.

 

 

Eventually, they broke apart, both breathless. Bucky rested his forehead against Steve's shoulder, arms still around his neck.

" _Christ_ , Steve."

Steve let out a breathy laugh. "That was… _God, Buck._ " He peppered a trail of kisses along Bucky's cheekbone, down his neck. "I know this is a lot," he murmured between kisses. "Are you okay? Do you wanna stop?"

Bucky pressed his hips hard against Steve's, trapping both their cocks between their stomachs. He rolled his hips, brushing his hard length along Steve's belly under the water.

"That answer your question?"

Steve just smirked at him, eye bright. Bucky let out a gasp as Steve ran his hands down the length of his back, over his ass and gripped at the back of his thighs, nudging them up. Bucky readily complied, lifting his legs to wrap them around Steve's waist. Steve moved carefully, wading back toward the shore. Bucky still in his arms, Steve effortlessly supported his whole weight as he carried him out of the water and took them into the hut. Bucky planted languid kisses on Steve's neck, reveling in the intimacy of Steve holding him like this.

Steve laid him down gently on the sleep pallet and then went to work kissing slowly down his whole body, starting at his lips and moving all the way down to the line of dark hair that trailed from his belly button to between his legs. Steve took his time there; Bucky let out soft gasps as Steve mouthed along inside of his thighs. He was achingly hard now, cock flushed and straining against his stomach. Steve brushed his mouth against it and Bucky arched up, feeling a shock of pleasure shoot right through to his whole body. Steve glanced up at him.

"Can I?"

Bucky let out a choked breath. "Anything you want. I'm yours, Stevie."

Steve gave him a fond, tender look and then took him in his mouth, slow and cautious at first, then slowly builng to a steady rhythm. Piece by piece, Bucky felt himself come apart. He became a boneless, shaking mess, unable to do anything but moan and gasp and mutter incoherent -- "Oh God Steve, Steve, Steve. Fuck, _Stevie._ "  Bucky glanced down and the obscene, beautiful sight of Steve, flushed and eager, working his mouth between his thighs, was his undoing.

"Steve, I'm gonna --" he gasped, giving Steve the chance to pull away. But Steve didn't stop moving his mouth up and down Bucky's length, and seconds later, when Bucky came seeing stars, Steve swallowed it all.

"Jesus, _Steve_."

Steve slipped off Bucky's cock with a low moan, moving back up the bed so that he lay curled against Bucky. They stayed like that for a few moments, Bucky staring up at the ceiling, still trembling and panting. He was dazed and half-paralyzed in the aftermath of his orgasm, but the feeling of Steve's still-hard cock pressed against his side spurred him to life. Shifting so that he was leaning over Steve, he trailed a hand from Steve's chest down to where his cock arched up against his stomach. He took Steve in his flesh  hand and gave a gentle stroke, eliciting a choked gasp. Encouraged, he kept up his ministrations, starting slow and then building to vigorous strokes. He kissed Steve as he did it, pressing his lips slow and languid along his neck and jawline. He worshiped Steve with his mouth and hands, made sure with each kiss, with each stroke, Steve felt just how much he loved him. Steve's gasps grew louder and louder, eventually turning to full on moans until he came without warning, crying out and spilling all over his own stomach and Bucky's hand.

They curled together afterwards, still naked. Bucky laid his head on Steve's chest, their hands -- vibranium and flesh -- intertwined. He was still in shock, unable to believe what had just happened. It felt like a dream.

"How long?" Steve said, suddenly. They'd been lying in silence for a while; Bucky had nearly drifted off to sleep.

"How long what?"

"How long have you felt...this?" Steve gestured vaguely between the two of them.

Bucky squeezed Steve's hand tight. "Remember the winter after you turned nineteen and you got the flu and then pneumonia? And I had to take you to the hospital because you stopped breathing? You've had a lot of scares in your time, but Christ Steve, that time I really thought you were a goner. And that's when I knew I couldn't live without you." Bucky lifted his head so he could meet Steve's eyes. "I realized I loved you then. I loved you all those years we lived together in Brooklyn. I loved you all during the war. I loved you even when I didn't remember it." He laid a kiss on Steve's collar bone. "And I love you now."

Steve looked like he was fighting tears but the smile on his face was the warmest Bucky had ever seen. "I love you too."

"When did it start for you?"

"When you first shipped off. I missed you so damn bad, I couldn't stand it."

Bucky let out a bark of disbelieving laughter, shaking his head. "All this time… Can't believe it took us eighty fucking years to admit we love each other."

Steve grinned and pressed a kiss to the back of Bucky's hand. "Well, I think it was worth the wait."

**Author's Note:**

> Yes I did take the title from "Africa" by Toto don't @ me  
> [art by the incredible steverogersnationalbicon](http://steverogersnationalbicon.tumblr.com/post/178903586070/finished-commission-for-amethystkrystal-for-her)


End file.
